


I am

by TheArchaeologist



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: (The animal death isn't Sumo!), Angst, Animal Death, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Father-Son Relationship, Found Family, Gen, Hank isn't in complete Dad mode yet, Hurt/Comfort, Mentions of multiple deaths, but he's getting there
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-23
Updated: 2018-07-23
Packaged: 2019-06-15 07:22:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,766
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15407904
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheArchaeologist/pseuds/TheArchaeologist
Summary: Old footage of Connor when he was being trained by CyberLife emerges, and very quickly he finds himself falling back into some old habits.





	I am

_Julia Roberts. 25 years old. No criminal record. Worked in retail._

_Andrew McKain. 23 years old. One instance of speeding and two cases of driving under the influence. Worked as an apprentice mechanic._

_Robert Jones. 27 years old. Caution for drunken behaviour. Worked as-_

“Andersons, my office, now!”

The stream of information running through Connor’s processor stops abruptly, snapping him slightly violently back into the present. Blinking, Connor glances over as the Captain vanishes through his door. Unusually, the digital curtains have been drawn, blocking the room from view.

**Date: 23rd April, 2039**

**Location: Detroit Police Department**

**Time: 15:27:09**

Hank grumbles under his breath, muttering a few words that would probably result in another page added to his file had anyone but Connor heard them. “ _Andersons_ ,” He mutters, taking another drink of coffee from the stained mug, “Who the fuck does he think he is shouting that in here?”

The addition of the Lieutenant’s surname onto Connor’s had been more of a formality rather than anything else, a piece of procedure. Androids were only given names if their owners saw fit to give one, and to grace them with more than one was practically unheard of (minus a few instances of the elderly, misunderstanding the technology, baptising their androids with multiple names). 

Connor was a rare exception in regards to having a name as soon as he was brought online. He was a negotiator, and the exchanging of names had been statistically proven to increase results by as high as 10% in some instances. Therefore, it had made sense to give Connor one. 

However, in general androids are not issued last names, Connor included. Initially he had left the space blank on the DPD registration forms, which had quickly sparked a summoning to the office, an awkward explanation, and a suddenly very grumpy Hank snatching the pen from the Captain to scrawl in a hasty ‘Anderson’.

_“Don’t overthink it,” He had snapped at Connor, “It’s just to get them off out asses. You can legally change it later, got it?”_

_“Got it.”_

**Objective: Go to the office**

Connor follows behind Hank, closing the door behind them, though not before catching a glimpse of Detective Reed watching from his desk. Reed quickly shifts his eyes elsewhere upon realising he has been caught.

Hank stops mid-stride, causing Connor to bump into his back. “What the flying _fuck_ -”

“Lieutenant.” Fowler warns, but there is little threat in the tone. Fowler's desk light is on but no others, instead the rest of the room being filled with the glow from the electronic board on the wall.

Connor peers around Hank, and then straightens. “Oh.”

**Software Instability ^^**

**Stress Levels: ^56%**

Multiple video feeds are playing. A small bar at the bottom signifies their run time, and as one ends it is quickly replaced by another.

Connor tips his head to one side, processing the different feeds. 

He had never been informed of such recordings, though in hindsight it was only natural that CyberLife would wish to collect data on his performance. He was a prototype, after all, and they would want to improve upon his test results for the next models and series.

“Holy shit…”

**Stress Levels: ^62%**

Video One shows Connor on a shooting range, being put through his paces by his instructor under intense conditions.

Video Two shows Connor walking down a table, dipping his fingers into various substances before methodically relaying the information provided to a scientist, who jots down on a clipboard.

Video Three has him being interrogated in a small, dark room. The man screaming at him leans close to his face, slamming the table with one hand while grabbing the back of Connor’s chair with the other. Connor's LED flicks from blue to yellow as he stares dead ahead. When he glances at the man's eyes he is unceremoniously shot in the head. 

Video Four is of his first kill. While androids are programmed to prioritise life over everything, the need to shoot to kill was vital in the line of work Connor was intended. He had to be prepared to end life in order to protect it. The camera is pointed solely on Connor, with intent focus on his LED. It was a horse, he remembers.

Video Five is Connor navigating a mock-up street in pursuit of a ‘criminal’. He miscalculates the speed and weight distribution on a narrow ledge and tumbles. The ‘criminal’ shoots him.

Video Six has him negotiating a ‘hostage situation’. The hostage survives, the perpetrator does not.

Video Seven was when they tested how much his body could endure before his outer casing broke.

Video Eight was learning to drive in a variety of conditions.

Video Nine was disassembling and reassembling a variety of guns in quick succession.

Video Ten was probing other android memories.

The videos flick about. Body analysis, autopsies, dealing with drunk and disorderly, understanding how much fire damage he could take, underwater activities, plane and helicopter lessons, and so many more that Connor could barely remember them himself.

**Software Instability ^^**

“Where did you find these, Captain?” He asks, moving his gaze to Fowler, hands now behind his back. Hank looks his way, but Connor does not acknowledge it.

“All I know is that the email containing this came from CyberLife.” 

“There was no name?”

Fowler shakes his head. “Nope, none.”

“I see.”

“When they said you were programmed to work with us,” Fowler thinks aloud, regarding Connor in a way he cannot decipher, “I thought you were literally just programmed. Not all…” He gestures to the videos, “This.”

“An understandable conclusion,” Connor nods, “While it is true a lot of my capabilities were created through my coding, adaptability requires a certain level of previous experience in order to be able to work. They also needed to calibrate and experiment with other aspects. I am a prototype; they needed to be sure that I would work before mass production."

“How many times did you die before you came to us?” Hank suddenly butts in, his voice a touch rougher than before, and Connor turns to address him.

**Stress Levels: ^68%**

“Twenty-four.” He says plainly, noting the odd expression that flits over Hank's face. 

**Scanning in process…**

**Scan complet-**

“Twenty-four!”

**Software Instability ^^**

“Yes. Eight times through failed interrogation,” Connor lists off, “Four times from failed social relations, three times through car collisions, three occasions of a broken thorium pump regulator, twice through failed hostage, twice from fire damage, once with a helicopter, and once because coffee was spilled by an intern while my internal components were exposed.”

**Software Instability ^^**

“You're fucking kidding me...”

If Connor was the type to shuffle, that’s what he would be doing right now. Instead, he just blinks at Hank, trying to reprocess his interrupted scan. “No?”

"They call _that_ ,” Hank jabs a finger at the video of Connor trying to talk down a knife-wielding android, “Training? Are you serious?”

“I am a machine, Lieutenant, there-”

“Oh fuck off!” With a puff of angry air Hank barges past and out the room. The digital curtains are still drawn so Connor cannot watch him leave.

In his reflection his LED spins between yellow and red.

**Software Instability ^^**

**Stress Levels: ^70%**

“Leave him be,” Fowler sighs, leaning back on his desk. “Shouting is normal in Hank-language.”

“I did not intend to upset him, I only meant-”

“I know what you meant, he did too.” Fowler runs a hand over his face tiredly. “What do you want me to do with all these? Delete them?”

“I...” The obvious reasoning would be to dispose of the footage. It served no purpose now Connor was a deviant and CyberLife no longer produced androids the way they used to. 

Video Eight now showed Connor pointing a gun at a dummy, numbly shooting every vital point.

Video Six switched to him running on 10% Thirium Levels.

**Software Instability ^^**

"I don't know..."

Connor had never watched himself before, had never seen what he was like in full android mode. It was strange, almost unnatural, sparking a feeling of something within him that Connor could not identify.

**Scanning systems…**

**Scan complete.**

**All systems normal.**

“You don't have to decide now,” Fowler offers, “I can store them away on a secure file until you work it out.”

“Could I...Could I have them, Captain? Would I be able to download the only copies?”

Fowler blinks at him. “You sure you want to? Some of that looks pretty heavy.”

“Yes, please.”

**Software Instability ^^**

**Stress Levels: ^75%**

“Then sure. I'll email them to you and then clear it from my computer.”

“Thank you, Captain.” Connor bows his head in appreciation. “I need to ask, do these videos effect-”

“Everything is as normal,” Fowler waves the question off, “This is before...all that, and you never actually do anything incriminating against you.”

“The animals...” Connor frowns.

“Not my problem. They were CyberLife property, and none of the deaths were longer than a few seconds. You were never actually cruel to them.”

“I see.”

**Software Instability ^^**

**Stress Levels: ^79%**

“Go check on Anderson, he'll be grouching somewhere.”

Recognising the dismissal, Connor makes his leave, pausing on the stairs to survey the desks.

**Objective: Find Hank**

The desk is empty, the mug of coffee abandoned and the car keys missing. The computer is also logged off. It is fair to assume that Hank has left the building, then.

**Objective: Find Hank**

**\- Check precinct**

**\- Check the carpark**

Still, it did not hurt to be thorough, and Connor makes quick work of scanning each room for the Lieutenant. As suspected, he is not there.

In all likelihood, Hank has stormed off to the nearest bar, or has gone to the local off licence for something to consume at the park by the bridge again. At least, those where his usual brooding spots when he was angry.

**Off Licence:**

**Definition: A shop selling alcoholic drink for consumption elsewhere.**

Connor’s processor does a rapid recalculation when he finds the car in its usual parking spot across the road, Hank sat in the driver’s seat with his arms crossed and music so loud that Connor could hear it from the other side of the street.

**Objective: Complete**

**Stress Levels: v70%**

He pauses outside the door, momentarily weary of incurring Hank's wrath by being unwanted company. He redirects his hand from the door handle to knocking on the window.

Hank, who had been staring straight ahead, shifts and starts up the car engine with a splutter. Connor instantly steps away, waiting for the Lieutenant to screech off down the road. After a moment, however, Hank makes a ' _are you coming or what?_ ' gesture.

Connor climbs in.

**Stress Levels: ^72%**

Hank doesn't say anything as he shifts gears and revved, taking off at a speed unsuited to the road they are on. Connor opens his mouth to say as such, but quickly snaps it shut by the dark look on Hank’s face. 

Suddenly unsure of himself, and briefly wondering if he should have allowed Hank more time alone to gather himself, Connor pulls out his coin, calibrating his reaction times as they screech along. He only has to recalibrate once, when Hank takes a corner a little fast, causing Connor to slide into the door mid-toss and nearly drop the coin under the seat.

They arrive at Hank’s home.

Cutting off the engine, the Lieutenant gets out the car without a word, and Connor swiftly unbuckles his seatbelt, sliding his coin back into his pocket.

**Incoming message…**

**Message received.**

**Email:**

**From: Captain Fowler, Jeffery.**

**Time: 16:50:34**

**Subject: You know**

**Message: Here’s the videos. Deleted them from all our systems. – Captain Fowler**

**Attachments: 89**

**Scanning attachments…**

**Scan complete.**

**Analysis: Non-harmful.**

**Downloading attachments…**

Connor startles as Hank bangs on the window. “Oi, you updating? Come on!”

“I’m sorry, Lieutenant,” Connor quickly climbs out the car. “I was receiving an email from Captain Fowler.”

Hank’s face shifts. “The videos?”

“I…Yes. He sent me the only copies.”

**Downloading attachments…**

**Download 10/89 Complete…**

“Jesus fucking…” Hank mutters, turning on his heel and marching to the door. Connor follows on his heels. “Fucking a-holes with their fucking tech, what the fuck-”

“These videos,” Connor voices calmly, backing up a step as Hank fumbles with his keys so he is out of immediate contact distance should his analysis be misdirected. “They disturb you.”

“They disturb me he says…” The key finds the lock, “Sure that’s one fucking way-”

Any conversation is immediately cut off by a flying, overly eager Saint Bernard. The dog tackles Hank, who stumbles under the sudden weight and collapses backwards. Sumo’s tail wags most of his body as he conducts his usual greeting for Hank.

“Sumo! You stupid mutt get offa me!”

Sumo, being a dog, does not understand complex English. Therefore, all he understands is that by climbing over his owner on the doorstep, he gets attention and talked to. Connor concludes that is exactly what Sumo wants.

**Stress Levels: v61%**

“Sumo, leave the Lieutenant alone.” He calls, encouraging the dog off Hank’s chest. “I don’t think he-”

He has miscalculated. _Two_ people giving Sumo attention was even better.

Connor vanishes under a mound of fur.

**Downloading attachments…**

**Download 15/89 complete…**

**Stress Levels: v45%**

“Sumo! I need to-Argh! Not in my mouth!”

**Analysing…**

**Analysis comple-**

Connor blinks away the result quickly. He would rather not know.

By the time Sumo finally relents, Connor is covered in dog hair and Hank has entered the house. As he sits up, he catches sight of Hank sat at the kitchen table, watching them while nursing a beer from the fridge. His expression is pained.

Connor clears his throat, trying to regain some dignity by smoothing out his hair and clothes. “Lieutenant-”

“Hank,” Hank corrects automatically, “We’re not at work.”

“Hank…Those videos, they are not of me now, if that is your concern.” Connor stands closing the front door. Sumo sits by his feet expectantly, as if a full-frontal assault on the doorstep was a great achievement. “I would not bring harm to any animal.”

Hank snorts, and then groans as if Connor has said something idiotic, rubbing his fingers into his eyes. 

**Download 26/89 complete…**

**Software Instability ^^**

**Stress Levels: ^50%**

“Did…I say something wrong?”

Hank doesn’t look at him. “Nah, Connor. Not you.”

There is a pause.

“You have my word I would not harm Sumo.”

“Jesus fucking Christ.” Hank grabs his drink and gulps. Sumo, intrigued by the bottle, trots over. Hank wearily pets the dog’s head. “I know that, kid. Of course you wouldn’t.”

“Nor you, Lieu- Hank.”

“Yeah, I know that too.”

**Download 39/89 complete…**

**Analysing…**

**Analysis complete.**

**Findings: Emotional pain and distress.**

**Cause: Videos of Connor before his arrival at the DPD.**

**\- Subject not distressed for his life**

**\- Subject not distressed for his dog’s life**

**Conclusion: Subject distressed for Connor.**

Connor moves further into the room, but still allows Hank his space. His shoes click on the floor. “Hank, I was not a deviant at the time. I felt no pain, nor anguish over the situation. And I don’t now.”

Hank regards his with narrowed eyes. “Your LED says different.”

“I…” There isn’t much Connor can say to that, apart from outright lying. “I admit that seeing the footage was…Conflicting, I was unaware that those sessions were recorded. Had I been expecting them, I would have been more prepared.”

“You were uncomfortable.” Hank states, looking up at him. 

**Uncomfortable:**

**Definition: causing or feeling slight pain or physical discomfort. Also: causing or feeling unease or awkwardness.**

Connor thinks it over for a moment, mulling the word and his feelings. “Yes. To have something like that brought up was…Disturbing.”

“You called yourself a machine in Fowler’s office.”

Connor frowns. “I said I _used_ to be-”

“No,” Hank stands, his drink left on the table. “You said _am_. Present tense, Connor.”

“O-Oh.” 

**Download 52/89 complete…**

**Stress Levels: ^65%**

“Why?”

Hank is taller than Connor by a good few inches, and suddenly having him in his face makes Connor step back a little. Sumo pants happily.

“I…I didn’t realise I had used the wrong tense. I was distracted, like I said I was unprepared for such content.” 

“Uh-huh.” Hank crosses his arms. “Do you think you’re a machine, Connor?”

“Technically-”

“Are you alive, Connor?” 

Sumo walks away from the kitchen, his nails scraping on the floor as he heads for his bed, unimpressed by the lack of attention he is receiving. 

“Yes, Hank, I am alive.”

“Do you believe you’re alive?”

“Hank-”

“For all the shit you’ve been through, you’re still not completely comfortable saying it, are you?” The interruption isn’t angry, but there is something fierce behind it. Unbelieving, concerned, and caring enough that Connor feels something sink within him. “There’s still a ‘you verses them’.”

“That is my programming,” He stumbles in way of explanation, “Ever since-”

“It was those girls’ programming to mimic sex, all those worker androids to do their tasks, yet they’re not having any problems ignoring that, going about their lives, _alive_.” Hank puts his head to one side, eyes sharp, scanning over Connor. “So why are you?”

Connor works his hand, half longing to take out his coin again. “You saw those videos, Hank.” His voice is softer now, and the sudden urge to look away overtakes him. Connor stares at the kitchen window instead. “How…Intense, they were. My programming has been drilled into me since I was first brought online. I literally had to fight for it at the end of the revolution.”

“Amanda…”

Connor nods mutely. If he required food and drink, he is sure he would be experiencing what humans call a ‘dry mouth’. 

**Download complete.**

**Storing videos under filename: CyberLife Training**

**Software Instability ^^**

**Stress Levels: ^70%**

“Markus, North, all of them, all they knew was that one day they were mindless machines, the next they were deviants.” Sumo is snoring on his bed. “I…Battled mine. Often. Constantly. It’s hard not to fall back onto your training.”

“You don’t need to fight it anymore-”

“You don’t need to by a pack of pops at the end of the week anymore, yet you still do.”

Because it’s routine, because it’s comforting, because it’s something to retreat into when confronted by scary, unfamiliar things.

Is that what it means to be alive?

Something warmer, sadder, crosses Hank’s expression. “You got spooked by those images, so you went into autopilot, is that it?”

Connor shrugs, dragging his eyes back to Hank. “I guess so. Like I said, I didn’t realised I used the term ‘am’ instead of ‘used to be’.”

“Huh.” With a deep sigh Hank backs off a pace, swiping up his bottle for another drink. After a moment’s thought he asks, “Why did you request the videos?”

This time Connor does pull out his coin, and runs it quietly along his knuckles. “In truth I do not completely want them, however leaving them on a system which has been hacked in the past seemed unwise.”

“What better place to trust than yourself?”

“Exactly.”

“So they’re just floating around,” Hank taps his own head, “Up here?”

“I have stored them, but yes, they are in my processor.”

“What’re you gonna do with them? Delete them?”

Connor flicks his coin into his other hand. “I suppose I shall, yes.”

Hank hums, gaze going from Connor, to his LED, and then down to the coin.

**Stress Level: -70%**

“Wait here.” Hank dumps the empty bottle in the bin and marches out the kitchen, disappearing into the bedroom.

Connor blinks, watching him leave, before turning and heading to the couch, sitting at the end by Sumo’s bed so he can pet the dog’s back. Sumo rumbles sleepily, his ears twitching in appreciation.

**Stress Level: v62%**

“Here,” Hank re-enters, holding a laptop in both hands. He settles on the couch beside Connor, setting the laptop down on the coffee table. “Upload the videos onto the memory stick.”

“Memory stick?” Connor echoes, eyeing the device stuck into the side of the laptop, “Why-”

“I’ve never trusted those stupid cloud things.” Hank waves it off impatiently, “But that’s an empty one. So come on, put them on here.”

“Why?”

“So they ain’t floating around in your brain!” Hank snaps, “Fuck, it ain’t healthy.”

Shutting his mouth so he doesn’t say anything else to upset the Lieutenant, Connor retracts his synthetic skin to connect to the laptop.

**Transferring files…**

**Processing…**

**Processing…**

**Processing…**

**Processing…**

**Transfer complete.**

**\- Delete files from internal memory**

**Deleting…**

**Files successfully deleted.**

“Done?”

Connor nods. Hank grabs the memory stick, yanking it out of the laptop and gesturing Connor to follow him out the back door. Now completely confused, Connor follows.

“Hank, that’s your old paper recycling bin.”

“Yep.”

“Hank, that’s a lighter.”

“You should be a detective, y’know.”

“What are you-” A finger shoved in his face silences him. Dumping the bin at their feet, Hank proceeds to click on the lighter, and then, holding the stick up so it can be clearly seen, brings the two together.

“You’re alive, Connor, and that ain’t you anymore.” The plastic of the stick starts to bend, morphing under the heat. “So forget those bastards, alright? Only something living could play with Sumo like that, or get a taste for jazz, or get away with switching the whiskey in my coffee with milk. So don’t go hiding behind that stupid mask of yours, cause it ain’t right. You’re alive. Got it?”

The memory stick is beginning to go black and strangely shaped, and as Connor attempts to work his jaw into talking Hank happily tosses the stick into the bin, the flame catching the crumpled pieces of paper and cardboard. 

“Do you get it, Connor? Cause I ain’t hearing you call yourself a machine again.”

“I’ve got it Hank…” His voice is soft, confused yet light, and an odd sensation of new emotions stirs up within him.

**Warmth:**

**Definition: enthusiasm, affection, or kindness.**

**Respect:**

**Definition: a feeling of deep admiration for someone or something elicited by their abilities, qualities, or achievements.**

**Thankfulness:**

**Definition: feeling or expressing gratitude; appreciative.**

**Stress Levels: v40%**

“Thank you, Hank…”

Hank glances up from the fire and nods, his face shifting back into grumpy. “I don’t wanna hear shit that I never do anything for you, understood?” He crosses his arms and huffs, but his elbow is gently touching Connor’s arm. It’s not a hug, but Connor smiles anyway.

“Understood.”

 

**Analysing…**

“Hank, you do realise this bin is made of plastic, don’t you? Maybe we should…”

“Holy fucking shit!”

**Author's Note:**

> Three things happen next:
> 
> 1\. They discover the hosepipe is not secure properly
> 
> 2\. They get thoroughly soaked
> 
> 3\. Sumo gets out and has the time of his life in the mud


End file.
